


Count the Ways

by SubtextEquals



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 22:03:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1758113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubtextEquals/pseuds/SubtextEquals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agron discovers that Nasir can't count and takes it upon himself to teach him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Count the Ways

Agron surveyed the escaped slaves, flocking to Spartacus and the promise of freedom. When they had left Batiatus’s ludus, he hadn’t imagined such a thing would come to pass. But when he had left the ludus, all he had craved was blood. It was still on his mind when he looked at the former slaves now, assessing each one he saw to see if they were fit to hold weapons.

“Our camp grows.” Nasir noted as he walked up to Agron’s side.

Agron turned and smiled, a quirk of the lips that came more easily to him when Nasir was beside him. “As will those able to lift sword for our cause.” He pressed his hand to Nasir’s shoulder and squeezed it. “Take count of those able to fight.”

He turned to leave but looked back at the sound of his name on Nasir’s lips. Nasir looked uncertain. No, he looked embarrassed, a foreign thing on his face.

“What is it?” Agron asked.

“I cannot.”

Agron stepped back toward Nasir. “What is cause for this?”

Nasir kept his eyes on Agron, who recognized that he was masking his emotions from him. “I cannot count beyond numbers of small size. My dominus had no cause to teach his slaves.”

In hindsight, Agron should have expected this. Nasir had been a slave since he was a child and of course the Roman fucks would see no reason to teach him.

“Fuck your dominus.” Agron wished he’d had chance to kill the man himself. “Set Donar to task.”

Nasir nodded.

Agron walked away, thoughts already turning over what he could do. Nasir would have to learn. It was practical on the field of battle as well as for communication. But Agron was no teacher. Neither was anyone else he knew and, judging by Nasir’s uncharacteristic embarrassment, he would rather keep this between them.

“Fuck the gods.”

 

Agron had assembled an array of sticks, broken to less rather than more of an equal size. As expected, Nasir arrived soon. He paused just beyond the flap of the tent.

“I fear chosen wood will not give fire cause to spring to life. Should it not be outside our tent?” He smiled as he stepped inside.

“It is not for fire,” Agron said although he knew that Nasir was only teasing. “This is your first lesson.”

“Lesson? Are we to fight with sticks?”

Agron, who had been crouching beside his collection, stood, grabbed Nasir’s waist, and pulled him down. Somehow, Nasir ended up sitting in his lap facing him. Agron knew what Nasir expected once they retired to their tents. He would prove far more distracting than anticipated.

“No, you are to learn numbers.”

The smile lingered on Nasir’s face before fading. “You would take this upon yourself to teach?”

“I would.”

Nasir pushed himself up off of Agron, sitting to his right. “As I would learn. Gratitude.”

Agron spent the next few hours teaching Nasir until all that lit the tent was their candles. It was frustrating for both of them but Agron could not hold this against Nasir. Agron had had difficulty too when he had learned. They made progress, but when they finally settled into bed, Agron knew they would have to continue. And they did, each night. Nasir learned faster than he had the first one.

A week later, they sat huddled together with their assemblage of sticks before them.

“If we’re facing twenty six Romans on field of battle.” Agron pushed a bundle of sticks he had counted beforehand aside from the rest. “And fifteen die by our hands, how many more will flee before they are stricken down?”

Nasir paused. He did not count on his fingers before answering. “Eleven.”

Agron smiled. “You learn fast.”

“Gratitude. Yet I would see all twenty six Romans dead.”

“As would I.” Agron took hold of Nasir’s chin and leaned forward to kiss him. When he pulled away, he continued the lesson, though he remained close to Nasir’s face. “And if, in retreat, forty seven more joined the eleven, how many must we kill?”

Nasir, to his credit, didn’t seek distraction in Agron’s lips. “Fifty eight.”

“And how many times will I have you tonight?”

“That I long to learn.” Nasir wound his arms around Agron’s shoulders and pressed their lips together.

 

Agron stood in counsel with Spartacus and Crixus. Their talk at first concerned Scrofa and how best to defeat him but that was soon settled and other matters needed to be addressed.

“Yet more have slipped from grasp of their masters and joined cause,” Spartacus said. “It grows ever more difficult to feed such a number.” He raised his voice. “Nasir!”

Nasir, who had been standing outside, entered the tent.

“Discover number of how many have joined us and give report.”

Nasir nodded. Agron caught him glance his way and they exchanged a knowing smile. Knowing and proud.


End file.
